


A Clockwork Orange - The Rise of Alex.

by JamieTheBastard



Category: A Clockwork Orange (1971)
Genre: F/M, The Black Devotchkas.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 10:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieTheBastard/pseuds/JamieTheBastard
Summary: Alexander DeLarge is sentenced to State Reformatory School #81 for being a violent bully. Far from reforming the young man, his taste and capacity for violence are honed to razor sharp perfection. As are his skills at dominating the weak-minded to do his violent bidding. He acquires a taste for violent sex when he is seduced by the headmistress of the reform school, a stern type, who likes her lovin' on the rough side. Alex is released on 12 months probation and he bides his time, mostly behaving himself, and attending school so as not to be sent back to the reformatory. Once his parole period is over, Alex gets down to business putting the skills he learned in the reformatory to practical use and he recruits a gang of droogs. Alex also runs afoul of a rather unique band of droogs.





	1. Out, Out, Out.

Inmate #4879: DeLarge, Alexander.

Age: 14 years.  
Charges: Assault Occasioning Grievous Bodily Harm. Petty Theft/Shoplifting.  
Sentence: Two Years, State Reformatory School #81 Linear North.  
Time Served: One Year.  
Department of Correction Officer: P. R. Deltoid.

Recommendations on inmate #4879 re Probationary Hearing.

Attachment A: Excerpt from pre-probationary Psychological Assessment by supervising state psychiatrist Dr. Stanley Burgess. Due to the defendants status as a minor he is referred to throughout this report as A - 4879.

"A - 4879 is an intelligent, self confident, loquacious and eloquent adolescent, although rebellious and slightly arrogant, he believes himself far superior mentally to the various authority figures in his life, parents, teachers, the police, the church and so on. A - 4879's family situation is stable, his parents are both gainfully employed, productive members of society, although according to A - 4879 the mother is habituated to sleeping pills and sedatives and the father is an alcoholic. (There was no mention of this in pre-sentencing reports).

A - 4879 related an incident from his childhood involving a much loved younger brother that I am convinced was the main catalyst for his pre-teen and adolescent rebellion and his increasingly anti-social and violent behaviour patterns. Although the sensitive nature of this incident and my need to observe strict doctor/patient confidentiality precludes my documenting the aforementioned incident in this report. In our many sessions A - 4879 has left no doubt that accordingly he has no faith or confidence whatsoever in the societal system and its rightful representatives of authority, teachers, police officers, priests, and politicians.

A - 4879 has completed the first year of his sentence without any infractions of the rules concerning violent behaviour, and only a few minor reprimands concerning contraband chocbars and cigarettes. In our many counselling sessions A - 4879 has demonstrated genuine remorse for his violent actions. I feel that a further twelve months incarceration would only be detrimental to his continued rehabiitation and I recommend A - 4879 be released on a twelve month probationary period under strict conditions, any violation of which would return him to Dept. of Correction custody to complete the full twelve months of his remaining sentence."

Doctor Stanley Burgess. Senior Psychologist. Department of Correction.

Slooshy well little brothers, slooshy well, thy humble narrator has a tale to tell. That being me, Alex DeLarge, sentenced at the tender age of thirteen to State Reformatory School #81 for being a rebellious young malchick. This esteemed institution was supposed to teach us to become rehabilitated and reformed members of society as it were. Pffft, lip music for their society, I say yarbles to their reform, big bolshy bollocks to them and their rehabilitation and all their bezoomny dreck. What I really learned in the reformatory was how to wield the nozh and the cut-throat britva real horroshow like, and how I could recruit a gang of droogs, tough young malchicks like your little brother Alex, and make them do my bidding and I soon gained a reputation as a malchick not to be fillied with. I learned how to stay out of the rookers of the chassos whilst dealing out tolchocks and drasting with other malchicks, and whilst some of my droogs were occasionally caught and punished for such behaviour, I managed to avoid any black marks on my record.

I learned all about the old in-out, in-out from this stern, starry old cheena, Miss Brannigan, who was the headmistress of the reformatory. I was spending a few nights in the infirmary due to a small accident in phys ed class when I had twisted my ankle quite badly. Every night at midnight the night chasso had a meal break and he would spend this down in the kitchens where he would vareet himself up a bolshy plate of fried eggiweg and sausages and slabs of kleb and butter, he would eat his midnight lunch and peet chai and smoke cancers and read the gazetta. He was supposed to have only an hour for his meal break, but he usually took over two or more hours, I mean the reformatory was hardly a Staja full of like hardened prestoopnicks and serial murderer vecks all ready to slit your throat for a packet of cancers or a dirty book, and there really wasn't any chance of my escaping with a twisted ankle. Headmistress Brannigan would often work very late and one night when all the malchicks were locked down snug in their dormitories, and the night chasso was on his meal break down in the kitchens, Well, well, welliwell my brothers, she seduced your humble narrator (as she had a few other malchicks before I was sure). When she was all nagoy I viddied that she wasn't really all that old, she was much younger than my pee and em, maybe thirty five or so and she had quite horrorshow groodies and plott. She liked lashings of ultraviolence with her in-out, in-out, and she made Alex slap her round behind until red welts appeared, she liked her groodies to be pinched hard and bitten till the red krovvy nearly flowed, and she would creech oh, oh, oh and scratch your old droog Alex's back with her sharp red nails, though my little brothers she was quite insistent that I was very careful not to leave any marks where they could be seen. This went on for six months or so until she left the Department of Correction to get married and I smecked to myself as I wondered what the moodge she had married would say if he knew of her previous nocturnal extra-curricular activities.

I learned to love the works of Ludwig Van, especially the glorious Ninth, as the Department of Correction believed that exposure to refined culture would help make us all into good little chellovecks. Most of the malchicks in the reformatory preferred the fuzzy pop warbles on their tinny little transistor radios, mostly cally dreck like Johnny Zhivago or the Heaven Seventeen, and they would make lip music when Ludwig Van was played over the tannoy. I had to teach them how to comport themselves with good manners, and a few tolchocks liberally applied soon stopped these disrespectful displays, O my brothers.

I learned how to tell the doctors who analysed my gulliver, stories of terrible vesches that had happened to me when I was very young, vesches that these head-doctor vecks believed had helped turn your humble narrator into a naughty, rebellious young malchick. It had been 12 months since I had become an inmate of this reformatory, and I was facing the parole board for a probationary release hearing. I had also learned how to tell these Department of Correction moodges in their cheap suits with their cally von of cheap cologne and old age, exactly what they wanted to hear. It was easy, I told them how like I knew now it was wrong to hurt others, and that I was very, very sorry for dealing out tolchocks and ultraviolence to those weaker than your little brother Alex. I convinced these starry old lewdies that their little droogie had seen the error of his ways, and was now ready to be a good little chelloveck. They govoreeted between themselves as I slooshied. Reformed they said. Rehabilitated they said. Redeemed they said. They stamped my file PAROLE GRANTED, and with that your droog Alex walked free from State Reformatory School #81, and home, home, home I ittied, to Municipal Flatblock 18A as skorry as my nogas would carry me

My pee and em were overjoyed at their wayward son's return, all reformed and rehabilitated and redeemed. I knew I had to be very, very careful for the next twelve months though, to keep out of the rookers of the millicents as it were, one little mis-step and it would be straight back to State Reformatory School #81 nice and skorry for another year. No my little droogs, Alex wasn't going back to the barry place again. So I played the good young malchick, and ittied off to skolliwoll, and mostly stayed out of trouble. On a few occasions I couldn't help myself and crasted a few dirty books or chocbars or packets of cancers from the local yahoody emporium. There was also a fight at my humble institution of learning, State School #76 Linear North, started by an older boy. The malchick was much larger than your humble narrator, but as I did not tolchock him senseless like I could have, or let him have a taste of my britva across his litso as I would have were I not on parole, and as I had a black eye and this malchick was not hurt, it was concluded that he had attacked me unprovoked. The headmaster didn't note this incident on my record and my parole was not, as they say, violated.

After I had been on parole for a few months I got very bolnoy. "A fever of the glands" the doctor veck said, and gave my em some medicine to give me. I had never felt so bolnoy in all my life brothers, your droog Alex was as weak as a malenky kitten and all I could do was lay in bed all day and all nochy. Mr Deltoid my Post-Correctional adviser called round to see why I hadn't been at skolliwoll, but my em explained that I was very bolnoy and that was all taken care of when he viddied me in bed all weak and pale and with a "Get well soon Alex boy." Deltoid was gone, no parole violation for his little droogie Alex. My pee and em moved the telly into my room as I was confined to bed and for the next three weeks all I could do was lay there going oh, oh, oh and feeling very weak and bolnoy in the gulliver and plott, and I viddied the TV all day long. There was one horrorshow program about the astros whizzing around the earth in the big round space station that looked like a big wheel all whirling and turning and spinning through space, and at the base on luna there was some science moodge explaining how they had found some type of vesch buried under the crater Tycho, a "Magnetic Anomaly" this veck said in his refined goloss.

There were real horrorshow old world war two flicks, the allied droogs storming the beaches of Normandy, all cannons going choom, choom, choom, and explosions and machine gunning and vecks dying after having limbs blown off, with the red krovvy everywhere, and my brothers I smecked to myself at the thought that they showed all this ultraviolence at a time when impressionable young malchicks and ptitsas too young for skolliwoll would be viddying the TV.  
Mostly though it was these political type programs. These vecks were talking about "The country going to hell in a handbasket" - economic recession, massive unemployment, juvenile delinquency and other such slovos. And there were lots of pictures of derelict housing estates and emporiums with boarded up windows and striking miners and riots and they talked of the millicents being under-staffed and over-stretched. They showed footage of riot-armoured rozzers wading in to the striking miners with billy-clubs, administering tolchocks and ultraviolence to these worker vecks left and right, who were like only wanting safer working conditions and more pay to feed their families.  
One veck was talking about "The alarming rise in juvenile delinquency and youth violence" and I had a gromky smeck at this my brothers, and "Prisons filled to bursting point and the need to remove these violent offenders from society" and such like, with more talk of an under-funded, over-worked police force. They govoreeted about "The urgent need to find a solution to the over-crowded prisons and reformatories." This veck talked about mandatory National Service for malchicks that had turned eighteen, his vesch was that two years in the army would teach all us rebellious malchicks proper discipline and like respect for authority.

And as I could do not much else my little droogies, I started thinking of all these political type vesches and slovos. I mean it's not acceptable to society to tolchock a few rival droogs, or rob a few sophistos, what these vecks called anti-social behaviour and juvenile delinquency, but it's perfectly acceptable and sociable behaviour to send millions of malchicks to die in ultraviolent wars? Or to drop atom bombs on cities full of innocent moodges and cheenas and malchicks? Or to send millions of lewdies to the gas ovens? Or kill millions of your own citizens in purges? Or to let millions of vecks die of starvation? You can't take ultraviolence out of society because society is ultraviolence I viddied. A few rich type vecks and sophistos have everything and all the other vecks and cheenas have to rabbit at some factory or emporium or stinking mine for a pitiful bit of pretty polly to feed their young malchicks. These sums didn't add up to me O my brothers, and I viddied that all these political moodges were like very hypocritical. I got over my fever of the glands after three weeks of bed rest and medicine and so soon had to itty off back to skolliwoll.

I met a ptitsa a few years older than me, Tanya a senior student at skolliwoll and I started seeing her, for something to do I suppose it was, what with me having no cutter and like not being able to go out at nochy because of my parole conditions. My pee and em were thrilled real horrorshow as they believed this would help me on my journey to becoming a law-abiding young malchick. All this devotchka talked about was bezoomny dreck like love and marriage and babies. I had finally managed to convince her that we should do the old in-out, in-out, and we skived off skolliwoll for the day and ittied home. When she had taken off her platties and she was all nagoy, I viddied she had real horrorshow groodies, but O my brothers your humble narrator could not, as it were, perform. I only finally managed to raise the pan-handle by viddying in my mind spanking her bottom until it was raw and red, and pinching her groodies very hard as headmistress Brannigan used to like. With these fantasies playing in my gulliver like a dirty sinny film, I gave her the business and she liked it real horrorshow, her litso was all red and flushed and she was creeching and oh, oh, ohing, and saying she loved me. It was lucky my pee and em were off rabbiting at the factory, her love creeching was loud enough for Bog and all his angels in heaven to hear it. I soon grew bored with this ptitsa and her love slovos and after a month I told her I didn't want to lubbilub with her any more. She was very razdraz over this and she creeched and cried and slapped your little brother's litso when I asked her if she wanted a tashtook as she was all drippy and snotty and such. She creeched and spat out dirty slovos about your little brother and cried some more before ittying off home, like all upset and bezoomny.


	2. New Droogs in the Mesto.

Soon the twelve months had passed my little droogs and I had to figure out what I was going to do with my jeezny from here on in, no more skolliwoll for little Alex. With the malenky handful of Hen-korm left in my carmans, I kupetted a half-pint of lager from the barman down in the Duke of New York. I contemplated as I peeted the lager, my parole was now over and I was free, free, free, O my brothers. What was I to do? First I needed to get my hands on some cutter, the small allowance of deng my pee and em gave me each week was barely enough for a few pints of lager, or a packet of cancers, or a trip to the sinny to viddy a film. I could get a job and rabbit away at some factory for a pitiful rooker full of pretty polly each week, but that vesch was for the lewdies and the moodges, not for your humble narrator. I needed to recruit some droogs nice and skorry, as I knew I would not survive long all on my oddy-knocky. There were some old babooshkas at a nearby table drinking black and tans, and two sophistos, a veck and his ptitsa in their thirties, dressed in very expensive platties, lubbilubbing away in a snug corner of the Duke of New York. I slooshied that they were going to the sinny and when they left I followed.

I followed the sophisto and his devotchka at a discreet distance for a while, but there were still a few chellovecks and soomkas about the street as it was not very late in the evening. I soon had my chance though, they had stopped near a dark alley and were lubbilubbing some more. There was no-one else about and I approached them. "Well, well, welliwell, a horrorshow evening is it not my little droogies?" The veck and his pretty devotchka, who at that moment had their yahzicks going in and out of each others mouths like flat pink worms wrestling, were both very shocked and startled by my sudden appearance, (it was lucky they didn't bite each other's yahzicks right off, I thought, how would they explain that at the hospital? With a pen and paper obviously, and I nearly let out a gromky smeck of laughter at this thought). The sophisto veck spoke in a refined sort of goloss (after he had untangled his yahzick from the ptitsa's mouth that was), "Do you mind young man? You are violating our privacy." So I answered him in the same refined tones, "Do you mind sir? You are violating the decency and decorum of this public place, in full view of any children that may be about, and I am quite offended and shocked at such inappropriate behaviour."

The moodge was speechless at this, and I smecked away to myself, your humble narrator was quite enjoying himself fillying with this lewdie. Of course there were no children about, there was nobody at all about, but someone could happen along at any moment, so I thought it best to wrap things up nice and skorry. "I think I'll have to be relieving you of your wallet you grahzny old bratchny, that should allay my concerns over public displays of indecency quite nicely." I had my cut-throat britva in my right hand, still closed, as the moodge finally managed to speak, "Get away with you, you juvenile delinquent or I'll see you off with a jolly good thrashing." And believe it or not my brothers, this veck squared up his fists and adopted a Marquis of Queensbury boxing stance. I ducked his fists and slammed my left into his belly hard, and he went whoosh, whoosh, woosh as all the breath was knocked out of him, he didn't go down though, so I gave him a hard tolchock on the litso for good measure and his nose went crack and spurted red krovvy all down his expensive platties. I reached inside his jacket and removed his wallet as his devotchka dragged him away, and they disappeared around the corner creeching and crying and bleeding. I took a thick wad of bills out of the wallet and threw it away.

I pocketed the cutter I had taken from the sophisto, there had to be two hundred pounds at least. It was then I heard a noise from the darkness in the nearby alley, someone was smecking away and I was confronted by three dark forms standing in the shadows, two about my own size and one very bolshy bratchny. Three malchicks who had seen me rob the sophistos and were now about to rob me no doubt. Well if they were going to filly with me they would soon discover they had picked the wrong malchick to filly with this nochy. I had my cut-throat britva ready as I sized them up, I would take out the big one first, slash him across the forehead above his glazzies and he would be no more trouble, as his glazzies would quickly fill with the red krovvy and he would like viddy no more, the other two shouldn't present too much trouble for your old droog Alex. As they stepped from the shadows I heard a goloss I recognised, it was Georgie, a young malchick who had also been in the Reformatory and had been paroled six months before your humble narrator.

"Well, well, well if it isn't little Alex."

"Hi, Hi, Georgie. Long time no viddy my brother."

"What gives bratty? They let you out of the reformatory early?"

"They did Georgie, and I have just completed my parole."

"We were about to take the sophisto's wallet when you arrived."

"Appy polly loggies droogie, I was like unaware of your presence."

Were Georgie and his droogs going to try and take the sophisto's money from me? No I didn't think so, Georgie had known me in the reformatory, he knew what I would do to him and his droogs if they tried. It was then we slooshied the sirens, the sophisto veck and his devotchka must have gone into a nearby pub or off-license and called the millicents. "Well Georgie, best not to be caught standing around govoreeting when the rozzers arrive, best we itty off nice and skorry or the millicents will have us and it will be back, back, back to the reformatory for us, my brother." We slooshied the sirens getting louder. "Right right, Alex, bestways you come with us droogie." Georgie replied.

And so we ittied off to this new mesto, the Korova Milkbar, which had opened a few months back when I was still on parole. The Korova Milkbar, Georgie told me, sold moloko plus - moloko plus drencrom, or synthemesc or vellocet, all drug type vesches. Georgie introduced me to his two droogs, who I learned were Pete and the big malchick's eemya was Dim, (who I soon discovered was Dim by name and Dim by nature, but he was right handy in a scrap was old Dim, with chain, nozh or cut-throat britva). I knew that Georgie and his droogs had probably brought me along as they had no cutter, and as they knew I had a nice carman full that I had crasted from the sophistos, I bought packets of cancers and moloko plus vellocet for all, or as Georgie called it moloko with knives in it. An appropriate name as I soon discovered O my brothers, it most definitely sharpened you up, as it were, and you were like ready for anything. I felt the top of my gulliver tingling as I peeted my moloko plus, and I viddied that here were my new droogs, I was no longer all on my oddy-knocky. My generosity was appreciated, they were all smecking away real horrorshow at how I had fillied with the sophisto veck, and I viddied that what they needed was someone like your humble narrator, a general to organise them into a band of droogs with whom to be reckoned, and at the same time fill their carmans with more pretty polly than they had thus far been able to crast on their oddy-knocky so to speak. We spent a long night peeting moloko plus and smoking cancers, whilst Georgie and I govoreeted about our time in the reformatory. I was starting to feel fagged and shagged and fashed, so I gave my new droogs twenty pounds each and we agreed to meet at the Korova two nights hence, as I had some errands to attend to and I ittied off homeways and bedways to get some spatchka.

I still had well over one hundred and fifty pounds of the sophisto's money left and for the next two days I went shopping. I bought a horrorshow bolshy stereo unit with very gromky speakers along with several discs of Ludwig Van and some other composers I also liked, (I even bought my old pee and em a Johnny Zhivago disc as they liked his cally, bolnoy wailings). I saw a large python in a pet shop display window and I bought him, naming him Basil after a character on an old TV show my pee and em used to watch. And finally I decked myself out in the height of nadsat fashion - bolshy great shiny and polished black army boots that some chellovecks called bovver boots, perfect for administering a good kicking to recalcitrant malchicks, crisp pressed white trousers tucked into the boots, a crisp pressed white shirt and braces, all topped off with a smart black bowler hat. I admired myself in the full length mirror at the chain store, your little droog Alex looked quite a striking figure in his new attire. I found in a nearby pawn shop a real horrorshow black walking cane that had a concealed knife in the handle, and also a beautiful pearl handled cut-throat britva, the perfect accessories. Things were on the up, up, up for your humble narrator my brothers. I had soon attired my droogs in similar fashion, although I let them choose their own hats, as long as they were black. Georgie chose a top-hat and Dim favoured the bowler, whilst Pete chose a black beret. To explain my recent wealth I had told my pee and em that I had a night job, rabbiting for the old yahoodies at the emporium doing odd jobs and the like.

I had spent all the pretty polly I had crasted and it was now time my new droogs and I went to work. We spent our nights all sharpened up on moloko with knives in it, crasting shops and off-licences, relieving chellovecks and cheenas of their hard earned pretty polly and expensive watches and jewelry. We crasted autos and went yeckating at high speed through the night, vroom, vroom, vroom, my noga pressing the accelerator flat to the floor, through the surrounding towns and villages, hogs of the road. We dealt out liberal tolchocks and ultraviolence to any malchicks or chellovecks we encountered on our night travels, and occasionally drasted with other gangs of night roving malchicks, acquitting ourselves quite adequately, even when outnumbered, and giving much harder than we ever got back my brothers. Under my skillful leadership little Alex's band of droogs soon acquired a reputation as malchicks not to be fillied with lightly.

That was until fat stinking Billyboy and his merzky cowardly droogs tolchocked Pete when he was all on his oddy-knocky. Late one night Billyboy and three of his droogs ambushed Pete who was ittying homeways after a hard night's crasting. They had tolchocked and kicked him until this nightshift worker that lived in Pete's flatblock who was ittying home from the docks, had scared them off before they could like really get to work on Pete real horrorshow with chains and bats and britvas. Pete said this dockworker veck was like six feet four and all bolshy muscles and he looked like he could chew up steel and spit out nails, and of course grahzny bratchny Billyboy and his cowardly droogs ran like dogs. Pete was lucky the worker veck had come along when he did or he would have ended up in hospital all busted and broken and cut up, but as it sloochatted he was not hurt too badly. His litso was all puffy and swollen, his glazzies were black and he had bolshy great bruises where they had kicked him, but no bones were broken. And so we waited for Pete to recover from his injuries so we could tolchock and kick some respect into those cally grahzny bratchnies. But fate had other vesches in store for Billyboy as it turned out my brothers.

I was ittying homeways from the Korova very late one nochy when I viddied a pack of five malchicks loitering about the street ahead. As I was feeling fagged and shagged and fashed from an evening of drasting and tolchocking, and as I was all on my oddy-knocky, I decided that as they hadn't seen me I would cut through the derelict factory and thus avoid a scrap, discretion being the better part of valour as they say. As I walked through the derelict factory I heard someone smecking away like very quietly and someone else coughed kashl, kashl, kashl. There were six figures lurking in the shadows and I thought that the loitering malchicks had spotted me after all and had followed your humble narrator to administer a good tolchocking. At that moment a voice spoke out from the shadows, "Well, well, well, if it isn't little Alex."

But this was not a shaika of malchicks, oh no my brothers, for this goloss was like a devotchka. The one who had spoken stepped from the shadows and your humble narrator was quite shocked, let me tell you, it was like viddying myself in the mirror, but all reversed like a negative photograph. She was dressed in bolshy army boots painted white, crisp pressed black trousers tucked into the boots, a crisp pressed black shirt and white braces topped off by a smart black bowler hat, cocked back at a racy angle on her gulliver, revealing black hair shaved quite short with a long plaited rat-tail at the back hanging over one shoulder. I recognised the cheena's shaved gulliver and rat-tail, her name was Natalya, a senior student at my old skolliwoll last year. Natalya was a tall devotchka, maybe a year or two older than your little droogie, very pretty and quite a horrorshow plott under her fashionable attire. Her litso was painted all white, with black painted lips and she had this malenky heart painted in black surrounding her left glazzy. "What giveth bratty? All on your oddy-knocky?" she asked as her droogs surrounded me. They were all attired in a similar fashion to the first, and each had white painted faces and black lips and a malenky design in black make-up covering the left eye - a star, a spade as in the Ace of Spades that is, an eight-ball and so on. One of the devotchkas had black and red hair cut all short and spiky, and as I viddied her closely I recognised under the make-up the litso of Tanya my old lubbilub ptitsa. They all had weapons, chains and baseball bats studded with six inch nails and long handled nozhes in their rookers. "Hi, Hi, Hi. What giveth my little sisters?"

"What is going to sloochat bratty is that first you shall giveth and we shall taketh, and then in the spirit of fair trade, we shall giveth and you shall taketh." At first I didn't kopat what she was govoreeting about, two of her droogs held me by the arms, and another one standing behind me had a razor sharp nozh held to my gorlo, one slash would open my throat and spill all my red krovvy. The leader went through my carmans and took out my share of all the cutter that Dim, Georgie and I had crasted that nochy, which she pocketed. With a "Let's see what he's got, a shlaga or a worm." she had produced a golden handled cut-throat britva and a quick slash, slash, slash and my trousers and my neehznies were down around my ankles, your little droog was all nagoy from the waist down, and now I started to pony that things really weren't looking too horrorshow for your humble narrator. The devotchkas were all "Oh and isn't he a big young malchick." and other such dirty slovos and they smecked away at that real horrorshow.

I felt an icy cold touch on my yarbles, as Natalya lightly touched them with the flat of the blade and they were doing their best to crawl back inside my guttiwuts. My krovvy ran cold as she gently carressed my sharries and pan-handle with the ice cold flat of the blade of her britva and I held my breath, one quick slash and I would spend the rest of my jeezny as a eunuch. It was like exquisite agony my brothers as I awaited the sudden slash, I shivered as malenky beads of cold sweat trickled down my litso and believe it or not my brothers I felt the old pan-handle stir and rise just a malenky bit, the traitorous snake. She withdrew the britva and said, "Turn him over." and the other cheenas turned me round and bent me over a workbench, my round behind exposed to the air.

I struggled as I could pony what was probably coming next, yelling explicit slovos as four of the devotchkas held me down and the other held her nozh to my gorlo again. "Don't move bratty, or I'll shive you a new smile." she smecked. Natalya the like leader of this shaika stood in front of me, a cricket bat in her hands. "It's time my little droog, to find out what it's like to be on the recieving end." She walked around behind me and I cried out in agony as the devotchka swung the bat like very hard and I felt a stinging, burning pain across my exposed buttocks as the bat connected with my plott. She did this six times, tolchocking my bare bum with her bat hard enough to leave raised red welts, and I knew that sitting down would be quite painful for the next few weeks. The leader of this shaika of devotchkas spoke "I think little Alex has had enough for this nochy, let him go." and I breathed a malenky sigh of relief, the worst vesch that I had been expecting hadn't eventuated thank Bog and all his angels. The devotchkas released me and I stood up, my neehznies and my pantaloons still down around my ankles, my thrashed buttocks stinging and aching and burning. My old lubbilub ptitsa Tanya stepped forward and slapped me so hard across the litso that I bit my tongue, I could taste the krovvy in my rot and I spat blood as she spoke, "Tell all the merzky grahzny bratchnies that there are new droogs in this mesto, the Black Devotchkas, and we're going to cut off all their bollocks, shaika by shaika." And with that she grabbed my yarbles and squeezed hard, at which I let out a malenky squeal of pain, she let go and the shaika faded back into the shadows and were gone. I pulled up my neehznies and trousers which I had to hold onto with one hand to keep them from falling down as she had slashed my braces, and I staggered homeways feeling very sore and sorry and humiliated. I was glad no other malchicks had viddied this grahzny display, they had fillied with your little droog Alex real horrorshow but at least the most unspeakable vesch I had been dreading hadn't happened, my grassy knoll had not been violated. I soon ponied what that whole vesch had been in aid of - They were using your humble narrator to send a message to the malchick shaikas, but in that they had failed, I of course would tell no-one what had ocurred this nochy, not even my own droogs.

It was just a matter of time I thought as I ittied home holding up my trousers, cheenas and sharps banding together in shaikas for safety, or as in the case of the Black Devotchkas, for dealing out some revenge to malchicks who liked to perform the old in-out, in-out on weepy young cheenas they caught out alone after dark. This surprised your humble narrator not in the least, I knew devotchkas could be as predatory and ultraviolent as any malchicks. I heard that Natalya and three of her droogs had been loveted by the millicents a few months later whilst administering tolchocks and ultraviolence to a shaika of naughty malchicks they had caught preparing to perform the old in-out, in-out, on a young ptitsa.

Pete recovered from his tolchocking after a few weeks, as did your humble narrator's behind (I had to sit on a podooshka for a week, eliciting sarky comments about painful haemorrhoids and derisive smecking from my traitorous droogs. I would have to watch that my brothers, droogs should know their place and have like more respect for their leader). Our revenge for Pete's tolchocking would have to wait for another nochy though, as Billyboy and four of his droogs had been tolchocked real horrorshow by the Black Devotchkas and Billyboy was in hospital with a burst appendix, oh well hadn't some veck once said "Revenge is a dish best served cold." or some such slovo? And so we continued our shop crasting and malchick drasting and lewdie tolchocking while we bided our time and waited for fat, stinking billygoat Billyboy to get over being bolnoy so we could put him right back in the hospital.

And that O my brothers is how I, that is Alex, came to be sitting in the Korova Milkbar many months later with my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim, peeting moloko with knives in it and trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.

But that my little droogies, as they say, is a tale for another nochy.

THE END.


End file.
